


Private Show

by NevermorePinocchio



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Hockey, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Internalized Homophobia, Las Vegas, M/M, Mentions of Real Hockey Players, Oral Sex, Pole Dancing, Prostitution, Shameless Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevermorePinocchio/pseuds/NevermorePinocchio
Summary: Tater and the rest of the Falconer's decide to hit up the popular but exclusive Las Vegas strip club, Elysium while in town to play the Aces. The last thing he is expected is for a mix up in the back to result in him getting a lap dance from what is possibly the most attractive man that he has ever laid eyes on, and what he doesn't know is that this sharp eyed blonde is also former NHL star Kent Parson, who quit playing hockey after only one year in the league and then disappeared from the hockey world.A lap dance that leads to so much more than either could have ever hoped for.
Relationships: Alexei "Tater" Mashkov & Kent "Parse" Parson, Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Kent "Parse" Parson, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	1. The Hockey Prince and the Pauper

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Y'all  
> This story is full of shameless smut, but also a fair dose of angst and feels and ultimately a lot of love for all you Patater fans out there, who like me can't get enough of our favorite sassy blonde and Russian d-man.  
> This started out as a ficlet idea, based off of a Brittany Spears song (we all know she is Kent's favorite) and an excuse to write some smut for my girlfriend for Christmas. Almost a year later and I'm still not done, and what was supposed to be one chapter is already 4 finished and 11 more already outlined.  
> A lot of the themes of this fic are based on her preferences, but I'm still really happy with how its coming along and wanted to share it with any other interested fans out there.  
> I will be honest in saying that I have never been to a strip club or Vegas, so pretty much everything is made up based on movies and shows and my own imagination.  
> Hope you enjoy :)

Once upon a time, two boys were born.

One in the far north, to a mighty king who loved him dearly, and who prepared him his whole life to inherit the kingdom.

The other, was born in the empire but not to a king, rather a mad courtesan who resented his existence, giving him nothing.

The first was talented and driven, determined to earn his place in the kingdom on his own merit, but still he lay awake at night, terrified of not being able to live up to the expectations.

The second, was equally gifted and despite disadvantages, conquered every obstacle with a smile on his face and a laugh in his eyes, but at night, his joyful heart turned to steel determined to rise above his life.

As the years passed, both boys grew and achieved greatness. They learned their strengths on their own, and when fate pushed them together, they discovered together they could become unstoppable.

During the day they slew dragons and during the night they made love.

Together they would change the kingdom forever.

The pauper was in love with the prince, and though he knew the prince was plagued with demons, he was sure, together they could overcome anything.

But the prince’s demons fed off of the whisperings of the court and the people, as they wondered who was more worthy to inherit the kingdom.

So, scared of failing his father, the king, he tried to slay them on his own and failing, lost everything.

Thus, the kingdom was given to the pauper, but without the prince, it was no longer the kingdom he had dreamed of.

Without the prince by his side, the dragons and demons were too much, and too soon he lost everything as well.


	2. Lament of an Icarus

The paramours of courtesans

Are well and satisfied, content.

But as for me my limbs are rent

Because I clasped the clouds as mine.

I owe it to the peerless stars

Which flame in the remotest sky

That I see only with spent eyes

Remembered suns I knew before.

In vain I had at heart to find

The center and the end of space.

Beneath some burning, unknown gaze

I feel my very wings unpinned

And, burned because I beauty loved,

I shall not know the highest bliss,

And give my name to the abyss

Which waits to claim me as its own.”

― Charles Baudelaire

_/ _/ _/ \\_ \\_ \\_

Kent made his way down the street, bag slung over his shoulder and cap pulled down low over his eyes. It had been years since he really had to worry about people recognizing him on the street, but it was still easier to make it through Vegas if you could avoid eye contact. Some New Yorker habits died harder than others. It was 6 blocks from the bus stop to Elysium if he went around the back to avoid the strip, but it was worth the extra time to avoid the lights and madness that was Vegas. 

Looking down at his watch, he picked up the pace, not wanting to be late. Jerry, the owner of the club could be a real asshole, and Kent did everything that he could to avoid being on his bad side, especially this month. His mother had called with another crisis, and he had wired her 3 grand so that she could get her car fixed, which was pretty much every penny that he had. He would need to make some really good money in the next couple of days if he was going to be able to make rent. He would have cut his mom off years ago if it wasn’t for his sister. He had never cared that they had different fathers or that there was a 10-year age gap between them, she was the only person in the entire world who gave a fuck about him and vice versa. If that meant he had to drink nothing but protein shakes this month, so that his worthless, alcoholic mother could, at the very least, make sure that she made it to school, that was a price that he was willing to pay. 

He wished that he wasn’t so far away. That he could make sure that the horror stories relayed to him over the phone could be verified with his own eyes, because he never really knew if the money he sent went to a real problem or to her newest boyfriend or current substance abuse problems. At the end of the day though, it wasn’t worth the risk, and as long as he could find a way to afford it, he would help his sister any way that he could. He really didn’t have much else to offer her. 

He lived the majority of the first 17 years of his life in that rat hole apartment, trying to drown out the sounds of his mother’s “job” out with half broken headphones while he worked out in the living room. Closing his eyes to the countless and faceless men who entered and left, praying that every crunch and push up was one step closer to him never having to see them again. One step closer to not having to calculate getting enough protein from chemically enhanced canned food they got from the government or patch his used donated equipment. The cruel irony of his current situation was not lost to him, but maybe that was just life, maybe everyone was destined to grow up to be their parents, no matter how hard they had fought against it. _Jack certainly had_.

When he had first started stripping he had told himself that it was different, that he wasn’t a hooker like his mom, but deep down he knew better, even if he wasn’t selling his holes, he was still selling himself. He was nothing but a whore with fancier rules, and he had no illusions that at some unknown point in the future he wouldn’t be young or good looking enough to keep doing this, and then what would he do? Some people were destined for bigger and better things, and other people weren’t; his current situation was nothing but the price for his hubris.

He wished that it was possible for his sister to come live with him, but no matter how insane his mother was, no court was going to take a child away from their mother to live with a washed-up hockey player/stripper who lived in a shithole, studio apartment in Vegas. He had considered calling child services a couple of times. Days when he got grief-stricken calls from his sister, hungry because there isn’t any food in the house, or going to school in the middle of winter without any boots. At the end of the day though, he had heard and seen enough bad foster care stories to feel like as long as he could, at least, sort of influence her situation and financially support her, she would still be better off. As soon as she was 18, she would be out of there. He would find a way to pay for her to go to college, make a real life for herself. He didn’t want her to be a high school dropout like him, who had to make money with his looks because he didn’t have anything to fall back on.

He pulls the old, rusted metal door of the alley entrance open and makes his way into the club. Strip clubs during the day with normal fluorescent lighting were always shockingly mundane. Most of the time when Kent arrived, the regular lights were already off and the servers were preparing the tables and bar, but he had gotten in early today to go over a couple new routines they had wanted him to work on. 

He had been working at Elysium for three years now, and though some people might have been comforted or felt a sense of security by that fact, he didn’t. Sure he got some of the best dancing times, which meant the best tips and for that he was grateful. Stripping and dancing was very different than hockey, in more ways than he could easily count, not the least of which being that he didn’t have to worry each night about taking a bad check from a 300 giant and spending the rest of his life a drooling mess; still, he was pretty sure that he had to work harder. The meal planning and workout regimen had been tough, but at the end of the day, as long as your game was good, no one gave a shit what you looked like. Kent knew that he was attractive, maybe in a bit of a douchey, frat boy kind of way, but he hadn’t heard any complaints. When he was younger he had always loved the attention. He may not have cared much for girls, but even if he didn’t want from them what it was obvious they wanted from him, it still felt good to be wanted. Now things were different, the countless and faceless men and women who ogled him while he performed did nothing for his ego. He wasn’t a person to them, just another set of well toned and tanned abs. At first it had been kind of nice, to not be seen as the NHL dropout, who got injured and couldn’t make it a year on the pro level after going first in the draft. It had been good to look down and see eyes filled with awe and desire that weren’t icey blue and sad. It was a relief to be faceless and beautiful and good at something again, but now, after years of the endless cycle, it all felt shallow and meaningless. He knew he was lucky, lucky to be born with a handsome face, a sly smile with a pair of perfect ‘dick sucking lips’; he was born from a life of selling your body and apparently it was the only thing that he was ever going to be good at. He accepted that a long time ago. 

The club was a good size. Not one of the insane corporate chain clubs with nothing but fake, overly tanned Australian cowboys or faux burlesque that handed out coupons on the street and were filled with the basic tourists. Elysium was well known to those who had enough money to prefer discretion and catered to both male and female clientele. Located just off the strip, in an older building, the front windows styled like aged mirrors, set between Greek looking pillars of a light stone, a combination of ancient and modern architecture . 

He was under no delusions about the fragility of his position. He was only useful as long as he was considered young and appealing. Maybe he should thank his mom for not being able to afford food this month, he had seen Jerry fire dancers for going over 12 percent body fat. The club paid for all of the dancers to have gym memberships and all access passes to the salon, making sure that they stayed tanned, toned and waxed, but it was just an investment in their own interest. They didn’t care if anyone was healthy. Never did any drug or alcohol screenings, in fact they would prefer you were on a liquid diet and had enough coke to keep dancing all night long, as long as you didn’t start to look sick. So, he was careful, very careful. 

He drops his bag off in the changing room and does some stretches to get ready for the rehearsal. It's only two in the afternoon and the club doesn’t even open until six and even then, all of the headliners started after 10, so the place was pretty barren. He would be able to get a good nap in after the rehearsal and before his shift later. He was sure the owner was there in his office, but he was glad he wasn’t out on the floor right now. There were a couple wait staff employees that looked like they were doing inventory behind the bar. They had a tv on, playing a sports network program of some kind, but luckily the volume was down pretty low. Kent tried to avoid sports as a whole as much as possible, hockey still wasn’t too popular in Vegas, but it still came up more often than he wanted to hear about it. 

By the time that he had finished stretching and doing some basic warm ups on one of the stage poles, the choreographer showed up and the two of them went to work on the new routines. It was easy to get lost in the physical exertion and adrenaline of pushing one's body. Kent had been an athlete for as long as he could remember, and though he had struggled to put on the weight and muscle mass for hockey during the off-season, sticking to a good routine and constantly pushing his body to its limits was the only way he honestly knew how to live. 

A couple of hours went by in no time, the trainer having finished her instructions within the first half hour and moving on to a couple of other dancers who had shown up to work on new routines of their own, and Kent had spent the rest of the time committing the new moves to memory. He had worked up a good sweat and knew that he wouldn’t have to do his work out for that day, which was a nice change of pace, honestly. He stepped off of the platform and got a towel to wipe down both the pole and himself, to keep from dripping on the floor. Ironic that he had been a professional athlete and he had gotten some of the most intense workouts of his life not on the ice but on a stripper pole. Maybe irony wasn’t the correct word. 

He walked up to the bar to get some water and as he got closer he recognized the guys finishing up inventory. 

“Hey John, Marcos. How’s the new place? You just moved, right?” He asked conversationally. He did his best to know the names of all of the people who worked there. It was Vegas so a certain amount of turnover was just part of the environment, but there were also a lot of good, steady people just trying to make ends meet, who had worked there for years as well. 

“You’ve got a good memory, Guy! Yeah, we did.” Marcos replied enthusiastically. He was handsome and Kent would have totally hit on him if he wasn’t happily married to a woman and expecting his first kid. One of the very few advantages of not being in the NHL spotlight anymore was not having to hide his sexuality. He wasn’t looking for a soulmate anytime soon, too many bad memories and Kent tried not to have to learn important lessons more than once, but having fun, casual hookups was a hell of a lot easier without having to worry about it ruining your career. Marcos’ reply pulled him from his stray train of thought.

“Everything is in boxes, but it's a really nice place and Gracia is super excited to set up the nursery.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s excited now that everything is in, and Gracia is unpacking everything, but you should have heard him moaning while we moved everything up three flights of stairs!” John added while shoving at his friend. Chirping may have been made famous by hockey players, but Kent had found it a pretty common practice everywhere since he left that world, even if not with the same name. He was a little embarrassed by the presumption that so much of his life was exclusive to just the rare few, but day in and day out, he learned that all human experience was surprisingly alike when you didn’t live in a tiny box of just you. 

Kent chuckled lightly and started to drink gratefully from the bottle of water Marcos had set on the counter, without him having to ask. “Sounds like you still have a lot of work to do, but I'm glad you found a bigger pla….” he wasn’t even aware of his words drying up in his throat. There he was, Jack ZImmermann. Steely, blue eyes, not the slightest bit obscured by the determined expression and deep set brow, if anything, it made them even more striking, the only thing keeping him from looking like a carbon copy of his father. He looked amazing. Gone was the lanky 17 year old, who had grown quickly out of his baby fat, but still hadn’t filled out enough to look anything but gangly. The breathtakingly handsome man on screen looked just like the face that haunted Kent’s nightmares and at the same time nothing like him, so much confidence and surety in his stride. It was like looking into a warped funhouse mirror of his best and worst predictions of the future he had spent years dreaming about, except in his dreams,he had always been there skating right along side him. 

There was a quick clip of him scoring an insane back handed goal against the Capitals before being mauled in an enthusiastic celly by a bunch of players in blue and white sweaters. So he was the new face of the Providence Falconers. A newer expansion team just starting to make a name for themselves. History sure did have a way of coming back to haunt you. The broadcast cuts back to the commentators and Kent is brought back to reality by Marcos’ hand on his shoulder. “You ok, Guy?” 

“Whaaa?” Kent looked down and saw the spilled water on the bar, his hand crushing the thin plastic of the bottle in a tight fist. “Oh… yeah, sorry about that.” he replied shakily while uncuriling his fingers. Getting addressed by his stage name was always disorienting; he knew it was for the best. Another layer of protection from being recognized, but also another barrier from anyone truly knowing him. A sharp reminder that no matter their kind words, these were nothing but work acquaintances, not friends. He didn’t have friends, not anymore.

“Didn’t know you were so passionate about hockey!” John said quickly, if he thought more about the reaction he didn’t act like it was anything out of the ordinary. “Jenna and I went to an Aces game last year and got totally hooked! The Falc’s might have that new hotshot center, but the Aces are going to wipe the floor with them!” 

“You can’t wipe the floor with someone, when the floor is made of ice, its ice! Would you say wipe the ice?” Marcus added and wiped up the water with a towel. He gives Kent a questioning look, but neither seemed like they were going to press, and for that he was grateful. They continued to bicker about the proper way to say sports related insults but specific to ice hockey, but Kent was already tuning them out. He really needed to get out of there. “Yeah I really wouldn’t know, I don’t follow hockey, but yeah, go Aces!” He replies with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, it still comes out a little flat. “Thanks for the water, I’ll see you guys around.” He really didn’t need them to associate him with hockey in any way. Sure, they didn’t know his real name and it was unlikely that newbie fans would be looking into dropouts from years before, but he didn’t want to have to find a new place to work. He couldn’t take people looking at him with shocked and disappointed faces and asking him what happened and worse than that, asking him about Jack. 

He stood to leave, almost knocking the stool he was half sitting on over and went back towards the changing room to retrieve his bag. He had originally planned to grab a nap back there, on one of the couches, but decided that he really needed to process in his own space and could grab a lyft or something. Normally he wouldn’t dream of the indulgence, but he wasn’t sure when the next bus was. As he reached to the handle of the back room door, he heard his name called out from across the room and froze. 

“Glad I caught you!” Jerry said, grabbing at Kent’s shoulder and turning him the rest of the way around, so he was facing him. “That new kid, Buck, quit on me and I need someone to fill in for two solos and one group number for the 7 o’clock shift. Ya’ think you could do that for me?” He squeezed Kent’s shoulder a little tighter as he asked, it wasn’t really a request. He took as deep a breath as he could get away with and plastered one of his signature smiles on his face. “Sure thing, boss.” 

_/ _/ _/ \\_ \\_ \\_

Kent wiped the sweat from the back of his neck and face with a towel as he walked back stage, simultaneously pulling bills from his black, leather jock. It had been a while since he had done a police officer routine, it was a bit gimmicky and something normally saved for the younger, and bigger guys, but the bachelorette party who was here so early certainly had enjoyed it. It was just about 10 o’clock, which is when his usual shift started and he was already pretty tired. He had forgotten how exhausting some of those group numbers could be. Fuck Jerry! He knew Kent wouldn’t say no, he never said no, but he was also the only headliner who got asked to work bullshit opening shifts. Opening was for newbies, they got a chance to work out their nerves and had a good space to make mistakes because there wasn’t anyone here, which also meant that you made crap money. 

The headliners generally had to do at least two mainstage solo dances an hour, got a 10 minute break after each. Then they could fill the rest of the time with private requests, lap dances, private striptese etc or doing standard pole work off of the main stage; for every two hours, you got a 30 minute break, and most people worked 4-6 hour shifts and weren’t supposed to be scheduled for more than 3 days in a row without an off day. The private or individual requests varied quite a bit. Some people wanted a lap dance right on the floor, in front of all their friends, whereas others preferred the privacy of an individual room. The most common private room experience was a solo pole dance with a lap dance, after which the dancer left and the client was allowed the room for the next 15 minutes. There were also two larger private party rooms, one with two poles, the other with three and a small stage, that they rented out for events. Kent had thought that was strange at first, but after being in Vegas long enough, he was never surprised by anyone who walked through the doors of Elysium. He had been here long enough to have his fair share of regulars and spent a good majority of his regular shifts in one of the private rooms. 

He chugged an entire bottle of water and started changing into his next outfit. He took a couple of painkillers and did a quick bump cause he could already feel himself dragging a little. He checked in with Rachel, the backstage coordinator to see if he had any new private requests or if he was headed out to an off stage pole. He was relieved it looked like he had the next 30 minutes just doing basic pole work. It was easy and he was sure that he would be getting a decent number of private requests as the night wore on, it was Friday night after all. His frustration at Jerry and being forced to work a longer shift had done a good job of distracting him from his earlier almost breakdown at finding out that Jack was going to be in Vegas. The loud thrum of the music that was normally just a mindless undercurrent to his routine kept drawing his thoughts back to Jack, the lyrics time and time again, referencing love or love lost. 

Was he in Vegas now? Teams often flew in a day early to give the players some time to adjust to the time zone. He could be at any of the countless hotels or casinos on the strip. Kent couldn’t help his mind from spinning with scenarios of them running into each other. What would he say? What would Jack think of his life now? Would he even care? How had things turned out like this? It was supposed to be the two of them against the world, taking the NHL by storm, breaking records and going home to have mind blowing sex and then retire at the top of their careers and start a family, or at least, that had been how Kent had always dreamed it. He wasn’t so sure that that had ever been Jack’s dream, not now anyway. 

Life really was a cruel and unforgiving bitch. Pitting two kids against each other, the pressure so high it nearly killed them both. Either way, Kent was pretty sure, he was cursed, or fate was mocking him for daring to dream of rising out of his shit life. For thinking that he could be anything other than what people would pay for him. Sure he hadn’t had to resort to sucking dick in allies yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. It didn’t matter that Jack had a mental illness and that he drank and partied and OD’ed as a teenager. He was always going to make it, always going to have a good life. His dad was hockey royalty and his mother rich and connected. He didn’t need hockey, didn’t need Kent, and certainly didn’t need to prove anything, not to anyone but himself. It was only his own internal complex that drove him over the edge. 

He wished that he could be happy for him, happy that he didn’t die, happy that he had figured his life out and been able to get his dream, but all that Kent wanted was to never see his stupid, beautiful face again, to never hear his name, and to just get to keep his own life, however small and insignificant to himself. As long as Jack stayed with the Falcs or any team out of the Aces division he would only have to worry about him once a year. He guessed that he could live with that, Vegas was a big city, there is no way in hell that Jack and him would run into each other, and he was perfectly alright with that. 


	3. Lips of a Sinner

“He’s a saint with the lips of a sinner. 

He’s an angel with a devilish kiss” 

\- Unknown

_/ _/ _/ \\_ \\_ \\_

It was far from Alexei’s first trip to the city that never sleeps. He had been here at least once a year since joining the NHL, but because the Falconer’s were in a different division and conference, they usually only played the Aces once or twice a year in Vegas, unless they were to meet in the playoffs, and that hadn’t happened yet. The Aces were known for some pretty rough hockey, but despite their sometimes shadier game practices, they hadn’t really been able to make a real shot at the Cup, since the expansion. They were a young team, like the Falcs, but despite putting a lot of funds and effort into their organization out of the gate, they hadn’t seen a lot of results. They were a team that lacked strength offensively and from what Alexei had seen from reviewing tape, they seemed to lack the ability to play as a cohesive unit. He wasn’t sure if this fault came from their upper management or within the team itself, but he was eternally grateful to have been drafted to the Falcs. He had gone 4th in the draft and the Aces had a 6th round pick that year. He remembers hearing about some kind of big scandal at the time, how they had had the first round pick two years before but the guy hadn’t worked out. Alexei spoke so very little English at the time, he really hadn’t understood much, but either way he had just been happy to get picked by a good team. 

He looked out his hotel room window at the seemingly never ending lights that stretched out along the strip, and then eventually gave way to the vast emptiness of the desert. It was hard to imagine calling this place home, but he still always looked forward to visiting. It was a lot of fun to go out with all of the guys, and the night life here was far superior to the rather pathetic options in Rhode Island. Alexei had grown up in a smaller town in Russia, but had trained in Moscow as a teenager and had always loved going out and dancing. 

It was hard sometimes, being away from his family and country, and it had been especially hard when he first came over from Russia. He had thought that he had a pretty decent grasp of English before he had come over, but he found out quickly that he was sorely mistaken. Everyone spoke so fast that it really didn’t matter what he knew or didn’t know, he was hopeless at understanding. His teammates like to chirp him about his English, but it was leaps and bounds better than it had been 4 years ago. Snowy had helped him the most. Having been drafted the same year, they ended up rooming together on roadies and spending a lot of time together. He loved his team and they were like family to him. He wasn’t sure if all the teams in the NHL were as close as the Falcs, since he had never been traded and still had a couple of years on his contract with a no trade clause, but he suspected that not every franchise was as supportive and close as he had come to learn that the Falconer’s were. 

Last year, he had acquired a rookie, Jack Zimmermann, “Zimbonni” as he had delighted in nicknaming him on day one. He had of course heard of Jack’s father, ‘Bad’ Bob Zimmermann, and had been a little nervous to meet him. He wasn’t sure what to expect from meeting a legend's son, whose reputation said, he was even better than his dad, when it came to shooting and stickhandling, even if not as well known for how he ‘drops glove’. He hadn’t been at all what Tater was expecting, serious and reserved but with a surprising sense of humor that came out at the strangest times. More than once, Tater had been forced to chirp him for making truly bad puns, “dad jokes” as Snowy liked to call them. He took his job as Zimbonni’s team emissary very seriously, though most of the time with rookies, your job was helping them stay focused and not party too much, but in Jack’s case, Tater had learned pretty quickly that he could probably party a little more. 

After a year with the Falcs, their cup win, and coming out on national television, Jack had really established himself and earned Alexei’s respect in so many ways beyond just his skills on the ice. Alexei was happy to graduate from rookie emissary to team best friend, and still took his job of helping Jack relax and have more fun just as seriously. Alexei couldn’t think of a better place to loosen him up than Vegas. They were staying in a casino, after all and didn’t have practice in the morning. He headed out from his room, wearing charcoal slacks, accompanied with a tailored and exotic patterned back and gold button up, that he was sure to get chirps for, from some of the guys who obviously had no taste. He gave himself one last appraising look in the mirror before heading out the door and down the hall to Zimbonni’s room. 

_/ _/ _/ \\_ \\_ \\_

The first few hours at the Casino passed by quickly, all of the guys enjoying the buffet and complimentary drinks and a couple losing more money at the tables than many people he knew back home, made in a year. Even Zimmboni seemed to be having fun, though Tater hadn’t seen him so much as touch a slot machine or even look at a roulette wheel, and he was pretty sure he had been nursing the same drink since they came downstairs. He was still sure that Jack would benefit from letting loose more, but it was good to see him socializing with the team. He came out a lot more now that he had been named Captain, wanting to make sure to spend time with the rookies and keep his presence known, Tater was sure, but it often seemed like it was more of an obligation than something he actually liked to do; tonight seemed a little different. Maybe Vegas really was a magical place.

“Zimmboni!” Tater boomed and wrapped his arm around Jack’s shoulder trying to playfully shake the tension out of them, “You having fun in city of no sleep?”

“Yeah, Tater. I’m having a good time.” Jack says back casually just the slightest quirk to the edge of his lip, not quite a smile, but it didn’t look forced. “Looks like some of the rookies are having a bit too much fun, eh? We still have a game tomorrow. “

“They be alright. Not come to Vegas often, No one so stupid to mess up game tomorrow.” he replied confidently with a smile and Jack just gave him a quizical eyebrow, “Ok maybe stupid enough, but scared enough of crazy, Canadian captain to not do anyway.” He added laughing at his own joke and pleased to see Jack chuckle and shake his head affectionately. 

“Yeah you are probably right, I’ve heard that guy can be a real hard ass.” Jack replies so deadpan that Tater would be sure he didn’t get the joke if he didn’t know him so well, but that was just Jack’s sense of humor and it took a bit to get used to. 

He was just about to try to convince Jack to join him at one of the Black Jack tables, when Snowy trailed by Poots and a couple of the other guys came hurtling out of nowhere and surrounding them. 

“TATER! JACK!” Snowy bellowed, “You guys ready to blow this popsicle stand? We are about to hit up Elysium! I have a friend who told me about it,,,,”

“Sure a “friend”, Snow”

“Shut up!” he bit back mid sentence, “Seriously, it's supposed to be super classy and discrete, You in?” 

“Something wrong with this casino? What so special about this …. Eli Sylum?” Tater asked, confused. 

“STRIPPERS!” a rookie chirped in helpfully, if a little louder than necessary. Tater saw Jack's posture stiffened instantly and he thought maybe the tips of his ears were a little red, but it was hard to tell in the dim casino lighting. Tater had gone to a strip club once in Vegas with the guys and it was pretty fun, if a little frustrating to be able to look and not touch. Tater gave Snowy an inquisitive brow raise. 

“Shhhh,” Snowy admonished before continuing, “but yes. It's a high class strip club though, like I said, discrete. I promise. Not one of those flashy, gross places they hand out cards for on the street, and where a picture of us is going to end up on Deadspin.” 

Jack shook his head and started to make his excuses immediately. “No! Come on, Jack. They are classy. I swear! And they have both male and female strippers, I checked.” he added with a self satisfied smirk.

“Yeah… thanks but no thanks, Snowy. I think i’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you all at skate tomorrow.” Jack replied quickly, “Don’t do anything stupid!” He looked more amused than offended to Tater’s relief, but he still slapped Snowy upside the head once Jack’s back was turned. 

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Stupid.”

“I was being considerate!”

“Most stupid.”

_/ _/ _/ \\_ \\_ \\_

Elysium wasn’t like any strip club that Alexei had ever been too before. He wouldn’t call himself an expert by any means, but this place was most definitely on another level. The exterior had tall stone columns like something from a movie about ancient greek gods. The decor all looked old, but intentionally and not in a bad way. The servers were all wearing silver toga’s with gold accents and those weird, leafy crown things, and he was surprised to find that Snowy seemed to be right, in that there was a good mix of both male and female servers and dancers from what he could see. The lighting was soft and intimate, but not dark. There were a lot of smaller alcoves and stages spread around with dancers and then several larger stages with more elaborate dances and more people gathered around cheering and throwing money. 

There were about 10 of them from the team and they were seated in the VP area in a rather plush alcove around a larger stage with two smaller stages off to either side. No sooner had they sat down before two gorgeous servers appeared seemingly out of nowhere to take their drink orders, and then a tall blonde with mile long legs and an equally attractive brunette, both on impressive heels came out to the two smaller stages, in sparkly outfits and began to dance. The boys were instantly cheering and enthralled in the two women, leaned forward in their seats and cheering enthusiastically. 

After telling the server his drink order and slipping them a hundred as both preemptive apology and thanks for their service dealing with 10 hockey players he sat down to join them. They were both stunning and obviously, very experienced at their jobs. He spent hours everyday training his body to be fast and strong, and he was still pretty sure that he couldn’t do half of the things they were accomplishing on their respective poles, and certainly not gracefully while in heels. 

As the servers disappeared back into the darkness, the stage went dark before lighting back up with spotlights showing the outline of at least 6 dancers behind some kind of thin curtain. The music was loud and upbeat, something he had definitely heard in a club before but couldn’t tell you the name of the artist who was singing. The back lighting flashed as the dancers struck different poses and then started to file out onto the main stage. There were four more girls and to Alexei’s surprise two male dancers, before he remembered that they had planned on Jack being with them. They all moved in perfect sync in enticing, choreographed movements before each coming center to dance one by one, on their own. 

He was instantly drawn to one of the two men. He had short, blonde hair that was slicked back messily and looked as though he ran his hands through it a lot. His eyes were a rather stormy greyish, green color that he had never seen before. He was well muscled but not overly bulky. His movements were smooth in a way that was beyond his comprehension, but nonetheless made his mouth practically water. It should be illegal for someone to look that good, and as he bent in half and slowly pulled his hands up his spread legs, Alexei had an undisrupted view of what could be one of the worlds greatest asses. He coughed and turned away, hoping to hide the blush rising to his cheeks and was grateful that there were so many dancers on the stage, most of them women, that he could use as an excuse if any of the boys thought to tease him. Though as he looked around, he was glad to find they all seemed completely enraptured in the performance, and weren’t paying him any attention. 

“What did I say boys? Isn’t this place the BEST!” Snowy shouted from next to him, as the dancers left and someone came out to clean the stage for the next act. He jostled his shoulder but luckily he was able to save his drink, and the boys were happy to answer him in loud shouts of approval. 

“Yes best! Someone write down, Snowy actually have good idea. Might be long time before happens again!” 

“You wound me, Totty! And here I was getting ready to give you an early birthday present.” He replied, grabbing his chest dramatically in mock offense. 

“Birthday not for 3 weeks! Very early.”

“Well we only come to Vegas once or twice a season, gotta take advantage.”

As if materialized out of nowhere another stunning girl with long dark hair appeared next to the booth where he was seated and outstretched her arm, “This way to one of our private rooms, Mr. Mashkov.” 

The boys all began to shout and jeer as he downed his surprisingly strong drink and shaking his head, stood to follow. “You crazy, Snow!”

“You know you love me! What are best friends for?”

“Worst!” He shouted back over his shoulder with a smile, as he turned the corner, he could tell something else was shouted in response but he couldn’t make it out over the din of the loud dance music. 

They passed another stage and alcove as they exited the VIP section, a loud and enthusiastic bridal party by the looks of it was screaming for a large man in a fireman’s outfit. He had broad shoulders and thick defined muscles. Despite his size he moved surprisingly gracefully as he grinded against the stage suggestively. Alexei knew what kind of work it took to maintain that kind of mass and definition, only coming close at the beginning of the season, after a full summer of bulking up. The man was very handsome but not really his type.

He had been with one guy since moving to America, and he had been very drunk and careless. Luckily it had been on a road game, and despite his horrible grasp of English at the time, the guy must not have been an avid hockey fan, because nothing had ever come out about it. Still, it had been over a month before he touched a drink. He generally did not consider the risk of getting outed worth it. He hadn’t even told the team with the exception of Jack. It’s not that he was worried about their reaction, or even the NHL's reaction honestly, it was just the fear of not being able to go home. 

After Jack and Bitty had kissed on live tv when they had won the cup, the media reaction had been extreme but overall pretty positive, as long as you ignored the truly rude and ignorant. Already, several other prominent NHL players had come out, some of them couples on their respective teams, and that had been more of a logistic problem than them actually being gay. It wasn’t like Tyler and Jamie hid it all that well before, and he didn’t have the fortune Zhenya had to be in a happy thruple with the man and woman of his dreams. There were no questions from the motherland when you were happily married to a gorgeous Russian woman and had children. He was equal parts happy and envious. He was so happy for Jack and he adored Bitty, but things were a lot more complicated for him. Besides, he wasn’t gay and he had never had a problem finding women that he was attracted to.

“Right through here, Mr. Mashkov.” A soft voice jerked him from his thoughts, “You can make yourself comfortable. Enjoy” 

  
  


There was a comfortable looking chair right in front of a small stage with a pole rising from the center. The room itself was relatively small but the three walls behind the small stage all had large mirrors covering most of them and then the corners were draped in long curtains, giving the whole room a sense of expansion as opposed to feeling closed off. He walked around the stage and reached out and touched the shined surface of the pole. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised at the cold surface but for the first time really considered the implication of discomfort against the bare skin of someone's legs. 

He could still hear the beat of music from outside the room but it was distinctly muffled. Still he jumped back from the stage as if caught in a crime when an unexpectedly low voice spoke from behind him.

“We can get started whenever you're ready.” a man said, “Did they explain the rules?”

As he turned around, he took in what had to be one of the most attractive men he had ever laid eyes on. He was shorter than Alexei, but honestly most men were. He was wearing a snapback, with a zip up sweatshirt and what looked kind of like track pants. In many ways he didn’t look that different from many hockey players he saw on the regular, but there was something about him that looked familiar. Maybe it was the impossible color of his eyes, but one thing was for certain, he really, really wanted to buy this guy a drink. 

It was then that the pieces fit together in his brain and he recognized the dancer from the first group performance, and now his friends had bought him a private dance. Did they really get him a lap dance from a male stripper? Had they figured out that he wasn’t entirely straight? Had Jack told Snowy? Was he that obvious? Maybe it was a joke? But surely they wouldn’t think something like that was appropriate or funny, especially not Snowy. . 

All of these thoughts came rushing through his mind, but as the look on the man’s face changed from charming to concerned, he realized he hadn’t said anything back in what was probably way longer than socially acceptable. 

“Ummmm sorry, no.” he said with a head shake to help emphasize this point. Some of his concern must be coming across on his face because the man still looked like he was trying to calm down a frightened animal.

“Hey! No worries. I get first timers all the time. My name is Guy. It's pretty straight forward. You sit in the chair, I’ll start the music and start on the stage and as long as you’re comfortable I’ll make my way to you for the lap dance part. I can touch you, but you have to keep your hands to yourself. It's nothing personal, just the house rules. If you prefer I just dance, that's fine too. I’m here to make sure you have a good time and enjoy yourself. That sound good? Any questions?”

Maybe he should tell him this was obviously a mistake, go back out and tell the guys they were assholes. That was the smart option; the safest for sure, but he really didn’t want to. He wanted anything and everything this… Guy was willing to offer. 

“I promise I don’t bite.” Guy said with a smirk and a wink. Alexei was so fucked. 

“Yes! I mean no! No questions. I understand rules.” He finally said dumbly and started making his way to the chair, sitting down and grabbing the sides to make sure he remembered to keep his hands from wondering. 

“Awesome! And just to make sure we are on the same page you do want a lap dance, correct?”

He began to nod probably a little too enthusiastically, but he didn’t trust his voice right now. Guy just chuckled and made his way back toward the curtain he had entered from behind. 

“Alright, let's get started then.” he heard right as the room went completely dark. 

An almost ethereal, bluish light lit up the stage and music filled the small space, drowning out any other sound. The man swayed and moved to the rhythm and captivated, Alexei’s eyes stayed glued to his every motion. He felt as though he had been transported to another world; nothing outside of this room felt real and he didn’t want it to end. The music stayed to a steady beat, that obviously guided his movements, but when the singer joined the melody his face lit up with a smile that looked genuine. He must like this song. He wrapped his leg around the pole and then began to swirl around it. He made it look effortless, as easy as walking or breathing. When his feet touched the ground he began to unzip his hoodie slowly, revealing insanely defined chest and ab muscles that glistened in the light. No person should look that perfect and move that well. It just didn’t seem possible and yet, here he was. 

Soon the pants went the way of the hoodie, torn off and tossed into the darkness, before he turned away from Tater, still clinging onto the sides of the chair for dear life, before he bent over in only a pair of tiny gold shorts and looked back at him over his shoulder innocently and then winking, as if he wasn’t breaking Alexei’s obviously poor will power with every movement. He hadn’t even touched him yet, and now he wasn’t sure if he could take it. He was painfully hard, his dick digging into the zipper of his jeans. His back felt sweaty even though the room was cool and his mouth suddenly felt dry. Was this normal? Could a person die from being too turned on? He had honestly thought that he had been doing just fine dating and sleeping with women when he felt like it. He had always been attracted to both, even if he preferred men. It just made so much more sense to stick with the safe choice, no matter what he preferred, he had his career and his home to think about.

“You still with me, big guy?” 

The soft words whispered in his ear from behind brought his mind 100% back to the present, as hands reached down and slowly moved up his body, before the man, Guy, walked back around him and sat directly in his lap. His arms wrapped around Alexei’s neck and his perfect ass began to grind down and rotate on his very hard cock. He did his best, but he was only human and an embarrassing moan made it way past his lips. 

Guy smiled and leaned in, tantalizingly close. His eyes looked steely grey in this cool lighting, piercing and strong. He was panting slightly, sweat glistening on his brow and temple. His hair loosely slicked back, except for a chunk that seemed determined to go forward into his face. He continued to work his hips and as he leaned in again, Alexei noticed that he was also hard, his dick straining against the tight fabric of his shorts and pressing into his stomach. Was that normal? Maybe he just really liked his job. His hands ached from how hard he was gripping the sides of the chair. 

The music ended and he looked up into Guy’s eyes. His hips had finally stilled, and they were both panting as though they had just finished a shift on the ice. There was so much happening in those eyes, it was like when he had first come to America and knew how to read the letters but didn’t understand what they meant. 

Time felt frozen and he was afraid to move or speak, terrified of breaking whatever spell this room was giving him. Then before he could react, lips crashed into his own and hands tightened into his hair. His body reacted on instinct, kissing back as fast as he was being kissed. Opening his mouth and his tongue exploring. He heard a moan, and it was quickly echoed with one of his own. HIs hands found hips and began guiding them in their continued grind. He leaned forward, their bodies flush; their mouths almost fighting for dominance. He was so close, even still fully dressed. His one hand moved up and over chorded back muscles that leaned into his touch, before finding his way into silky blonde hair. He pulled firmly and a moan broke from Guy’s lips and he tilted his head back and exposed so much tantalizing neck. Alexei started to kiss and suck along the jaw and down the throat before biting right at the juncture of the shoulder. 

Guy let out another moan before arching back and once more grinding the globes of his ridiculous ass against him, and that was all that it took. He came hard in his pants like a teenager, before collapsing forward into the man on his lap. 

“Fuck. . .” he said smiling, before looking up into shocked and terrified eyes. Guy looked around almost frantically as if he himself had completely forgotten where he was, before jumping off his lap and scrambling backwards. 

“I’m so sorry! That was completely unprofessional, I didn’t. . . I’m not . . .” The words started tumbling out of his mouth as he started grabbing his discarded clothes and putting them back on. 

“Nyet! I’m sorry. I’m break rules, not supposed to touch and did. Very sorry.” His own words of apology begin to overlap those of Guy, before he puts his hands up and Alexei goes quiet. His panicked expression is gone and replaced by a calm smile. 

“You know what. It’s fine. You have nothing to apologize for. It was a pleasure dancing for you tonight. The room is all yours for another 10 minutes… “ he gestured to the back of the room by the door he had come in, there was a small black cart, “There are supplies and sanitizer if you need to umm… clean up.”

Alexei couldn’t help the blush that rushed to his cheeks. 

“I hope that you have a great night and stay. If you are ever here again, you are always welcome at Elysium.” And with that he slipped out the door and Alexei was alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone who is following along with this fic. I don't have an exact schedule for when I will be posting chapters but I will do my best not to leave ya'll hanging too long. This story is unbeta'd so sorry if there are any typo's or inconsistencies.  
> Hope you enjoy it. I am also making a playlist that goes along with this fic for all of the songs that are stripped to, in this chapter the first song (the group dance) is Take It Off by Ke$ha and Kent is dancing to Private Show by Britney Spears which was the song that is the inspiration for the fic.


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